Louis Weasley and the Blue Moon
by Palakalaka
Summary: Louis Weasley enters his 5th year of Hogwarts and faces the general challenges of a magical adolescence: his emerging Veela heritage, the accompanying new status in Hogwarts, and the ominous threat of a group of Neo-Death Eaters committed to the rebirth of the Dark Lord.
1. Chapter 1 Lose Control

**Disclaimer: All non-OC characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Many thanks to my incredible beta, Lady Mayflower!

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Louis Weasley

Chapter 1

Lose Control

In the corner of the airy backyard of Shell Cottage, sitting on top of a cliff in the south coast of England, there was a tiny, metal garden shed. In striking contrast to the picturesque garden surrounding it, the garden shed was wild and untamed. Nature had laid its claim ages ago. Mosses and vines wrapped around the walls and roof of the rickety shack in a tight lover's grip. Inside, grass had begun to push through the cracks of the floor while moss smothered the intact pieces. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley, had wholly surrendered the garden shed to the natural world when they had demoted Shell Cottage to a vacation home, giving in to the pressures associated with raising a growing family.

Now, the shed served a dual purpose. It held both gardening supplies and served as the Weasleys' personal apothecary. The walls were lined with magically-stabilized shelves full of jars of all sorts of strange potion ingredients. From glowing, lime green mush to the tiny claws of some feral rodent to human-looking eyeballs, the shed contained substances straight from a young boy's imagination. In fact, it had often caught the eyes of the owners' young son, Louis Guillaume Weasley.

Today, the fifteen year old boy had seated himself on the overrun ground of the shed in front of a hot plate given to him by his favorite grandfather Weasley. It was very early in the morning and, despite it being the end of July, very chilly out. The ground especially felt cold, despite the thick blanket he had laid underneath him, as he began to unpack the knapsack he had brought along.

He gingerly pulled out one of his mother's rusty old pots, positioning it on the hot plate. Teeth chattering, he skimmed through the hotplate's manual.

_Puissance_, the manual read. He picked up the hot plate and spun it slowly before finally finding the on-switch, gently flicking the switch before setting the hot plate back on the ground. _Maintenant attendez quinze minutes pour elle a se reshuffle_, it continued. He would have to wait a few minutes for this "baterie" powered Muggle gadget to heat up. Louis didn't mind the wait. He had been taught a lesson in patience from his last attempt at brewing a potion in the garden shed. Even now, he sat upon the huge gaping hole left from that fiery disaster.

It was the first time he was trying to use a pot, instead of a cauldron. Because of the previous incident, his parents had strictly forbidden Louis from bringing his cauldron with him when they made their annual pilgrimage to their summer home of Shell Cottage, hoping that this would hinder him from any potion-making whatsoever. In an uncharacteristic moment of rebellion that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have never expected from their youngest, Louis had snuck out anyways. He had spent the day sneaking _Bête_, the Weasleys' pet crup and magical 'guard dog' of sorts, extra bowls of milk, exploiting the normally-ferocious terrier's one weakness and thus enabling the canine comatose for Louis's late-night escapade to the garden shed.

Catching his eye on the glossy pot, he grinned down at himself, mentally patting himself on the back. This was easily one of the most exciting things he had ever done. It was all so thrilling: the scheming, having to use his wand to light his way through the dark Cottage (and breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery in the process! Though like all purebloods- which he was for intents and purposes, Veela blood or not- he had never put much stock in it anyways), the eerie silence outside, the seediness of the shack itself…

Sad as it looked in comparison to the many adventures of his aunts and uncles (especially Uncle Harry), Louis never did anything out of the ordinary for a fifteen year old wizard. Hell, he didn't get into much of the trouble that the boys in his year were getting into, or even what his own father had been up to at his age. While Bill Weasley had been a brawny, popular Quidditch star at Louis's age, Louis was the opposite: slim, clumsy, and could count the number of mates he had in Hogwarts (who weren't related to him) on one hand. Like his sisters, he took the most after his mum. He had her bright blue eyes, thin face, silvery blonde hair, perfect fair complexion, and even white teeth. Still he seemed to have missed out on inheriting her bewitching Veela charm. In a tragic mix-up of fate, he hadn't inherited the best features of either parent.

But here he was: covertly potion-brewing in the middle of the night in proper Weasley fashion. _All for Jean_, he reminded himself, pulling out the potion's book from his bag. Flipping through the pages, he searched for the page with instruction on how to concoct jumping jelly beans, the perfect birthday present for his two year old nephew, Jean. He stood up with the book in hand.

_Bouncing bulb, puffer-fish parts, and leech juice_, he read quietly, scanning the shelves of the shed for the ingredients. Easy. Within a few minutes, he was pouring leech juice into the pot and his thoughts had already moved on to the next step of coating boring, idle jelly beans with the potion to animate them. He supposed he could've used a charm but then again, his wandwork had always been rather shoddy.

Just as he was sprinkling diced pieces of bouncing bulb into the bubbling, festive pink mixture, he heard deep canine howling from outside the shed. Startled, he stood up quickly, dropping the rest of the bouncing bulb into the pot. The pot let out an excited gasp but Louis didn't hear it over the sound of his own heart.

_It's just Bête_, Louis told himself. He must have woken up and sensed something wrong. But there was something different about the howl. It was more… wolf-like.

"Bête?" he called out cautiously, the shed door creaking as he opened it slowly. "Bête, is that you?" But then he heard the howl again- except now he heard it for what it was. He had heard a recording of it in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class last year: the pained howling of a werewolf.

He sprung backwards, tripping over his bag and almost kicking the now-violently bubbling pot. In a panic, he lunged for his wand, but had a hard time getting a good grip with his hand shaking so hard. The werewolf let out a hoarse moan and Louis dropped his wand.

From what he remembered from his lessons, Louis figured the werewolf would definitely have caught on to his scent. With a start, he realized that the werewolf should already be in the process of tearing into him now. He pictured long, golden fangs and claws tearing into his tiny body, and his family waking up to the fatal consequences of his disobedience. His father, Louis remembered, had barely survived a werewolf attack, and had the slash marks across his face to prove it.

The predator outside let out a loud groan and Louis had to bite down a whimper. But then he realized something strange. Werewolves don't groan. They howl and roar and- well, he wasn't sure what else they did, but they definitely did not groan. Not like that at least. And it dawned on Louis that the noises from outside were becoming more and more human-like. The werewolf was changing back!

Raising his wand a bit more confidently, Louis stood. He glanced quickly at the pot violently shaking on the hot plate. The pretty pink the potion had been a few minutes ago had transformed into an ugly dark purple color. It was making an odd popping noise so loud that it hurt Louis's eardrums from standing so close. But a weak groan from outside snapped Louis back to his current, more-pressing problem. _You are a Weasley_, he told himself, echoing his father_. Act like one, damnit_. He stepped out into the yard, wand held out in front of him, and blanched at what lay on the ground a few feet in front of him.

A very hairy, naked man, clutching his head, rolled back and forth on the dark grass, moaning in pain. For a moment, the full moon stubbornly glared down at them, illuminating this most-perplexing riddle, before clouds passed over it and the man disappeared into darkness and was reduced back to being just a scary noise in the night.

Still, Louis's wand trembled violently in his tight grip. As he tried to will himself forward, his mind raced for some spell to protect him if this frightful trespasser were to suddenly attack. But his mind, as per usual, failed him.

"Lumos!" barked three voices simultaneously from out of the darkness. Louis dropped his wand to cover his eyes as three strong beams of light hit him at the same time.

"_C'est moi_- it's Louis!" he cried out. The beams dropped from him and instead groped the yard around him.

"Are you alone?" the familiar deep voice of his father barked.

"N-no, there's a man- a werewolf!" Louis answered.

"_Ou est l'intrus_?" his mother yelled over a thunderous popping noise coming from the shed behind Louis.

"_Ici, ici-_ he's right here!" Louis replied, dropping to his knees to blindly search for his own wand. His hands only grasped handfuls of dirt and for a second, Louis feared that his wand had, in the ultimate act of betrayal, rolled away from him to join the werewolf. But then his fingers wrapped around the firm, long stick and he raised it.

"Lumos!" he exclaimed, directing the thin beam of light shooting from his wand to the man. All the other beams of light joined his.

"Stupefy"!

"Petrificus Totalus"!

The man shuddered as he was enveloped in a thick red and blue glow, and for a second, Louis thought the most exciting night of his life so far (and hopefully ever) had come to a conclusion.

"You alright?" his sister, Dominique, asked, stepping forward into the moon's unique spotlight. Her doll-like face was perfectly illuminated and so he was able to watch as her eyes widened, her finger rose to point behind him, and her mouth formed into a scream. Suddenly her nails were digging into his shoulder as she pulled him toward her, both of them falling hard on to the ground. Behind him, the garden shed roared as it went up in flames. Louis turned his head to watch the walls of the shed collapsing and smacking into one another as they came crashing down.

"Aguamenti!" Louis's mother and father shouted. Two thick jets of water blasted out of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's wands and into the inferno.

Dominique pushed Louis off her and stabbed her wand into the air, sending her own torrent of water into the battle against the fiery remains of Louis's great adventure.

"Aguamenti!" Louis copied, flicking his wand in the direction of the fire. Nothing happened. "Aguamenti!" he said again. This time a thin stream did erupt from his wand but died before it could join the fight. "Agua-"!

The fire let out its greatest battle cry yet, suddenly exploding in size, and flames rushed out and licked at Louis's knee. He yelped and fell backwards, flat on his ass. Trying to pull himself away from the fire snapping at his heels with one hand, he patted down his burning robes with the other. He let out another terrified scream when his hand connected with something meaty and hairy- the werewolf.

Louis's father grabbed him by the back of the collar and hoisted him up.

"Keep your wand up!" he shouted in Louis's ear. Louis nodded and, with his father's tight grip on his shoulder, pointed his wand at the fire.

"Aguamenti!" he shouted, a jet of water shot out of his wand and joined his family's. But it was too late, and the situation intensified tenfold as the garden shed exploded. The flaming roof went flying over the ducking family and fragments of blazing metal sprayed them.

"Protego!" shouted Louis's parents. Magical barriers sprang up in front of them, shielding them from the flaming projectile debris. Mrs. Weasley grabbed her daughter and pulled her behind her shield. Mr. Weasley tried to do the same but his hand ended up grabbing unsuccessfully into the smoke, Louis having tried to leap away from the explosion.

"Pro-!" Louis tried, a second after his family. But then a large piece of what had been the door to the shed soared through the air and slammed Louis into the ground before he could finish.

"Depulso!" Louis's father screamed, sending the heavy piece of wreckage pinning his son to the ground flying away. He stepped over him, covering him with his shield too.

With much of the walls blown away, it wasn't difficult for the Weasley family to locate the source of the blast. The innocent birthday present for the youngest member of the extended Weasley family, the jumping jelly beans, had gone rogue. The potion had sloshed on the ground, forming a huge, molten puddle. It was still bubbling, more and more violently by the second.

"Bloody hell, what the fuck is that"? Dominique exclaimed from behind her mother. Mrs. Weasley glowered at Louis as she jabbed her wand and summoned a final jet of water to douse the remaining embers and burning chunks of wood scattered across her garden.

"Yes, what _is_ that, Louis?" Mr. Weasley asked him, his grip on Louis's shoulder suddenly uncomfortable tight. Suddenly Louis found himself wishing that the garden shed would go up in flames again so he could jump in to a more comfortable fate. But before he could stammer out an answer, his potion, in its one redeeming act, burped. Gleaming spittle came shooting out and rained down on them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley summoned their shields, but it was like the climax to a fireworks show, shiny specks spitting out in rapid fire at them with no end in sight.

"Fleur, take Dominique to the Burrow- I'll head to the Ministry!" yelled Mr. Weasley over the onslaught, grabbing his son with one hand and the naked werewolf with the other. Mrs. Weasley grabbed their daughter and vanished with a pop.

Just as they were disapparating, Louis let out a shrill scream as the blazing spittle from the potion hit his shoulder. The chaos around him became a disorienting whirl of black and red as the blood now gushing from his shoulder sprayed everywhere into the abyss.

* * *

Mr. Flint had had an awful day. It had been his _time of the month_, and he had had the usual, appropriate feelings of despair. To top it off, he had spent the entire day unable to shake the feeling that there was someone following him. But he had blamed his paranoia on the full moon, which always made him a little barmy.

But then there was his fiasco of a transformation. He had locked himself up in the safety of his grandmother's dungeon when he had noticed the Wolfsbane potion was failing. He was losing more and more control as the transformation progressed! He had barely any consciousness left to hear the alarms blare as the wards to his grandmother's property were broken.

The next thing Flint knew, he was lying in a field of some kind, writhing in pain. The familiar scent of wolfsbane burned his nostrils and the powerful petals of the damned plant were scratching every inch of his body, burning his own claws and fur off his body. He didn't even notice the voices around him or the beams of light hitting him; it felt like the Cruciatus.

Flint didn't have to suffer from the wolfsbane too long: red beams struck him and he lost consciousness.

He was woken up only seconds later to the shrill, high-pitched cries of a boy drenched from head to toe in blood. Flint soon joined him with his own screams as his body began transforming back into a wolf without the wolfsbane to spare him.

"Calm dow- need- get better look- damnit!" hissed the man holding him, who Flint recognized to be the war-hero, Bill Weasley. Weasley shoved Flint away with one hand while trying to hold his struggling son still with the other. Around them, in what Flint quickly realized to be the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, Ministry officials gaped at them. Bill ignored the flabbergasted crowd and aimed his wand at his son's dripping red robes.

"Diffindo!" But Louis only began to thrash more when he saw the wand pointed at him and the spell instead slashed his thin forearms. He let out another shriek as even more blood started to spurt out that limb as well and began struggling even harder.

"Bloody- stupefy!" Weasley barked, jabbing his wand at his hysterical son. With a dramatic twitch, his son lost consciousness and became still, blood still pouring down his body. Bill carefully picked up his son and stood up. With an anxious glance at Flint, he disapparated away, leaving a sizable crimson puddle and clueless wizards and witches to deal with the savage monster Flint was quickly becoming. A brave few had their wands out but it didn't matter. The last things Flint remembered were the terrified face of the closest employee as he charged towards her and the feeling of intense relief as he felt his fangs bite down.


	2. Chapter 2 Unforgivable Green

**Disclaimer: All non-OC characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Many thanks to the best beta ever, Lady Mayflower, and to everyone who read and/or reviewed!

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Louis Weasley and the Blue Moon

Chapter 2

Unforgivable Green

The first floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for "Creature-Induced Injuries" had been recently redecorated in an attempt to be more calming. The furniture had been reupholstered brighter colors (but made no more comfortable as to not completely abandon the traditional feel of a hospital), paintings depicting wizards being roasted by dragons or torn into by manticores were taken down, and the walls had been repainted an ironically headache-inducing bright lime green. But even the obnoxious walls couldn't quell the restlessness of its newest patient as he tried to recover from the liveliest episode of his life so far.

"Wicked!" Louis Weasley exclaimed, pulling out the silver half-moon shaped locket from a tin can. "Maman, look at what Lysander sent me!"

The locket's "silver" was already causing the pale tips of Louis's fingers to turn a faint but dangerous green color, and he knew he would only ever wear it once in front of Lysander just to maintain the illusion that he enjoyed the authentic souvenirs from the Scamandar family's summer adventures. Just once he'd love for there to be a bar of foreign chocolate in the tin can. Even then, this was absolutely the single most exciting part of his hospital visit so far. After days of squirming in a hospital bed, nothing beat the thrill of tearing through the layers of newspaper to get to the tin can or the minutes of clawing at the can's difficult lid. It was amazing to Louis that he could be struggling to find the courage to confront a werewolf one day and then have _this_ be the climax of his day a week later.

"Why does he always send you rubbish in tin cans?" Dominique sneered, glancing up from her copy of _Quidditch Weekly_. Her lean body shifted uncomfortably in the hard hospital chair as she absently curled her long strawberry blonde hair with her wand.

"He says tin wards off the nargles," Louis answered with a grin, turning over the locket in his hands, ignoring the green rash growing nefariously down his palm. Dominique rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to her magazine.

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley said, prodding her dozing husband awake," Bill, the Scamandar boy sent Louis jewelry again."

"Oh?" Mr. Weasley answered, getting up. "Well then, let's have a look," he said, taking the locket from his son. He sat back down next to his wife and began poking thoughtfully at the locket. "I'll bring it by work- I should have it back to you by the beginning of term."

"Else you might find yourself back in here," Mrs. Weasley grumbled.

After an unfortunate incident in which a ring Lysander had sent Louis from South America had tried to snap his fingers off, Mr. Weasley, who had once been a renowned curse breaker for Gringrotts bank several promotions ago, now screened each of Lysander's presents to Louis.

"It came in a tin can, of course," Dominique told her parents sardonically, looking back up "lest Louis be eaten alive by narkles." She reached suddenly at the newspaper clippings that the tin can had been wrapped in and began reading:

**SIX GRIEVOUSLY INJURED IN ATTACK ON MINISTRY**

**WEREWOLVES DESCEND ON MINISTRY O FMAGIC**

**LEONARD WEASLEY AND MINISTRY OFFICIALS MAULED BY WOLVES**

**HARRY POTTER'S NEPHEW IN ST. MUNGO'S- WHY HASN'T HE VISITED YET?**

"Well aren't you the celebrity, Leo," Dominique commented as she sifted through the increasingly ridiculous headlines.

"I prefer Leonard," Louis said grinning, joining his sister and thumbing through his fifteen seconds of fame.

"Oh look, this one says he tore your-"

"What's this?" their mother asked, walking over.

"-right off!"

Mrs. Weasley ripped the newspapers out of Louis's hand so violently that afterwards he was left holding onto one lonely corner.

"I told you that I didn't want you reading this rubbish," she snapped, grabbing the clippings from her daughter next. "Just stick to your Quidditch Monthly!"

"I don't even read the Quidditch Monthly!" Louis whined loudly.

"It's Quidditch _Weekly_, idiot!" Dominique snapped, rolling up her copy of the affronted newspaper and smacking him with it.

"And I should be kept informed," Louis continued, trying to lean away from his sister's attacking hands.

"You _should_ be focusing on getting better," Mrs. Weasley corrected him. "And fine, no Quidditch Weekly for anybody then!" she continued, jerking her wand to the side. The rolled-up magazine flew out of Dominique's hands and neatly slipped itself into her mother's purse.

Before Dominique could protest the loss of her only vice, the hospital door swung open and a dark woman in robes that matched the ill-colored walls strode in.

"Good afternoon, just here to run some tests," Healer Patil said.

"More tests? Mrs. Weasley balked. "It's been days; surely you must have figured something out by now."

Louis shared his mother's sentiments. It had been day after day of tests- none of which seemed to have anything to do with the deep gash across his shoulder. He didn't even completely understand why he was still at St. Mungo's. He could just as easily lay in bed all day at home. But he decided to take it as proof that he had, though unintentionally, managed to brew a (thankfully not literally) killer potion.

"His wounds are of magical origin, and as such it would be best if we didn't force the healing process," Healer Patil answered tiredly. "Shouldn't be long now though. Alright, up you go, Louis. Just some quick tests."

Louis stood up and Healer Patil flicked her wand. A thick roll of measuring tape shot out of her robes, unrolling in the air, and wrapped itself around Louis's waist and then his head. Finally, it stretched itself from Louis's toes to the golden tip of his head before snapping back and returned to her pocket. She maneuvered her wand in intricate motions several more times but the results were unseen to the Weasley family.

"Well, you've grown half an inch since yesterday- a full three inches since when you were first admitted," she announced, "and gained seven pounds."

"What?" Louis said incredulously, turning away from his family to observe himself in the mirror. It was true. He did look more fit. Happily, he realized he was no longer the runt of the Weasleys. _Take that Hugo!_

"Three inches in a week?" Dominique repeated. "What the f-?"

"Dominque!"

"It is very curious though," Healer Patil agreed, staring at Louis thoughtfully. She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley suddenly. "Could I speak with you for a moment outside?" They followed her into the privacy of a busy hospital corridor.

"What is it- is something wrong?" Mr. Weasley asked once the door has been shut next to them.

"Not wrong, _per se_, just different," Healer Patil answered, not looking at Mr. Weasley but instead staring at Mrs. Weasley, who silently held her gaze. "I just got the results from the mediwizards back and, well, they don't know what to make of the results. Some of what they got back hadn't anything to do with wizards. Or humans for that matter."

Mr. Weasley glanced at his wife and understood immediately. Even in the corridor, every wizard passing had their eyes locked on her.

"To be honest, we don't know much about _them_. Especially the males, so what's happening with Louis is especially mysterious. And after all these generations too! It's unprecedented! I suppose this must've been triggered by the attack. You and your daughters must've gone through something similar? A change? But of course, you had something to reference. There've been plenty of women… as far as we at St. Mungo's are concerned, this is a first in wizarding history! Which only makes it all the more difficult to help you, what with how little information there is about them out there. _They're_ a very private people- or I suppose not people- no offense, I mean-."

"I understand," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. Healer Patil chewed on her lip and distractedly twirled her wand in her fingers, causing the roll of measuring tape to bob up and down from inside her pocket.

"This is a curious situation indeed," she continued after a while. "I- I urge you to contact your family, Mrs. Weasley, and see what more you can gather. He'll be going through changes- that much is definite. What sort of changes and how extreme… that's the question. But- but I don't suppose it should be too… too difficult. You and all the other female half-breeds seem to be doing just fine. Can't imagine it would be too difficult for Louis. Or I certainly hope not. But- but either way, you need to warn him. No matter what, this is going to be a very interesting year for him."

The Weasleys agreed and Healer Patil excused herself to attend to a patient who had grown a second head.

"What was that about?" Louis asked when his parents re-entered the room. His growth spurt now having gained an ominous quality to it, Mrs. Weasley was struck by the desire to push him back on the bed so she could once more pretend like the gash across his shoulder was his biggest concern.

"Nothing," she lied. She glanced at her husband, trying to communicate that she needed time. "Trouble with the Gringrotts insurance. Goblins, stingy as ever." As predicted, Louis's eyes glazed over at the word 'insurance' and he resumed admiring himself in the mirror.

It was Dominique, the only Weasley not weirdly entranced by Louis's new developing physique, who, minutes later, noticed their next visitor.

"Afternoon, Teddy!" she bellowed, jolting her family and bringing their attention to the tall purple-haired man at the door.

"Wotcher Dominique, Louis," greeted Teddy Lupin, who was garbed still in the dark robes of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. Though his bright hair was hidden mostly by his tall officer's cap, it was easily the most distinct thing about him. Only the sheen of the golden badge clipped to his belt offered any competition. "Here're the promised pies from your Gran- she, of course, sends her love," he said, dropping a thick bundle onto the foot of Louis's bed.

"Awesome- thanks!" Louis exclaimed, ripping the bundle open as his sister wistfully watched on.

"Quidditch season starts next month," Dominique said quietly to herself. "Stay fit for Quidditch. You need. To stay. Fit. For. Quidditch". The chair screeched against the floor as she turned it so she could seek solace in the bright walls.

"Oh c'mon, just take a bite," Louis grinned, holding out a spoonful.

"If you don't bloody get that out of my face, Louis, I swear I'll make it a good thing you're already in a hospital!"

Teddy took advantage of the spike in energy between the two siblings and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum, dad," he addressed his in-laws. He leaned closer, his hair wilting to a mousy brown. "They've pushed the trial back again," he told them solemnly.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "I would think with all this,"-she swiped the newspaper clippings from her chair and waved them angrily in the air-," they would push it up, if anything."

"That's just noise to cover up the incident at Godric's Hollow," Teddy replied, dropping his voice even more. "But that'll end soon," he added hastily to his scowling mother-in-law. "The Wizengamot's meeting right now to discuss the new threat."

"The new threat-"

"Not here, Fleur," Mr. Weasley interjected, motioning discreetly at his son and daughter arguing near them.

"Fine- but why can't they discuss this as well?" Mrs. Weasley asked, shaking the newspaper clippings again.

"There's no proof that they're connected at all," Teddy said. "It's going to have to be dealt with in a separate trial."

"So they're going to do nothing?" Mrs. Weasley said. "Our family was attacked and there's not so much as an Auror stationed here to protect us."

"You have me?" Teddy offered, his hair briefly flashing a friendly green before dying back to dirt brown at her bemused response.

"Are we even safe here?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes anxiously darting around the hospital room. Her hand slipped into her pocket and she clenched her wand.

"I reckon it's one of the few safe places left," Teddy responded. "What with the Ministry, Shell Cottage, and Godric's Hollow all being hit so far-"

"Oh, very reassuring," Mrs. Weasley sniped.

"St. Mungo's wasn't even infiltrated during Voldemort's reign," Mr. Weasley reminded his wife gently, reaching out and squeezing her hand, forcing her to drop her wand back into the pocket of her robes.

"Exactly right," Teddy said.

"Whatshappin?" Louis asked from the bed between bites. Mrs. Weasley scowled at him and he quickly swallowed. "Any news about the trial?" he asked.

"Sorry mate, postponed again," Teddy replied. "Knowing the Wizengamot, it could take weeks, maybe even months before-"

"Typical British law system!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Oh maman, don't start-."

"-have to drag out everything. In France, they-."

Teddy's badge began rattling noisily against his belt, saving them all from Mrs. Weasley's latest lesson on the superiority of England's southern neighbor. He grabbed it from his belt and watched as the words "Officer of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol" faded away. New words in glowing red began to pulsate across its smooth golden surface and Mrs. Weasley was able to read one word, "WIZENGAMOT", before Teddy jerked his badge away as he turned on his heel. His hair now jet black, he bolted from the hospital room, sprinting away into the lime green nothingness.

* * *

The chamber that the Wizengamot privately assembled in was magnificent. It was said that a confunded famous Muggle architect had designed it back in the sixteenth century. It was a massive cylindrical-shaped room, made up of many pure-gold, wide, circular steps on which sat dozens of conjoined bronze desks. The steps led down to a platform on which a member of the Wizengamot traditionally appealed to his or her colleagues and where a scribe carefully recorded all of the happenings of the meetings.

Presently, recently-instated member of the Wizengamot, Mrs. Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, stood at the platform.

"My fellow colleagues of this esteemed high court of wizarding Britain, I stand before you today to address a growing threat to our community," she began. "As we all know, a few decades ago, a dark wizard by the name of Voldemort," (here, several of her colleagues flinched dramatically and one witch on one of the top steps had to grab at her neighbor to keep from falling over), "was disposed of, and with his death, his ideals and dreams of a wizarding world organized into a class system based on blood status were expelled. But there has recently been a terrorist movement launched by a group of 'Neo Death Eaters,' otherwise known as the 'Erus Renatus,' whose goal seems to be to bring back the previously mentioned ideals of Voldemort. Though we previously did not give them the amount of attention they deserved, it has become clear to us now that they are rapidly becoming a much larger threat than we anticipated."

She paused, letting the faction of some of the best wizards and witches of Britain absorb her introduction. All day, she had felt something dark pulling at her intuition. She had pushed it off as her own personal anxiety but now, seemingly flourishing in the light of the artificial sun, her intuition was back with a crippling vengeance. She found herself having to resist the urge to pull at her collar, which suddenly felt so tight against her neck, or wipe her palms against her hips.

"They are a threat, however, that despite the best efforts of my own Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have managed to stay elusive. We don't know for sure who their leader is, where they meet, what their specific goals are, who their, if any, targets are, or really, anything substantial about them. We don't know if their membership is made up of mostly ex-Death Eaters or if it's an entirely new generation of witches and wizards who have taken up Voldemort's campaign. One of the few things we do know comes from their name, which crudely translates to 'the Rebirth of the Lord'- we assume they mean 'Lord' Voldemort."

"If you know so little, why have you called this meeting?" an elderly wizard in front of her asked. In a sea of solemn, wrinkled faces, his scowl had been difficult to ignore. "An elusive new threat," he repeated. "I'm not sure how long you've held the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement position, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, but in my day we got a dozen of those a day."

"We do know that they were culprits behind the recent attack on Godric's Hollow, a move that is audacious enough to warrant our attention," she responded. In front of her, many gray eyebrows furrowed and wrinkled foreheads crinkled. She was pleased that for all her department didn't know about the Erus Renatus, they had managed to hide the incident at Godric's Hollow from the media. She wanted the Wizengamot to be able to think rationally, removed from the would-be public hysteria, and then go to the press about the Erus Renatus on their own terms. "The last time the Ministry failed to recognize a growing threat like this, it resulted in the Second War," she reminded them. "The Ministry needs to take a firm stance from the beginning and stamp out any threat early on. Especially one as bold as the Erus Renatus."

Several mouths opened to question her about Godric's Hollow, but she was ready.

"As most of us know, Godric's Hollow was the residence of two famous enemies of Voldemort, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a previous Chief Warlock of this court, and the savior himself, Harry James Potter. It was also the site of Voldemort's first attack on Mr. Potter several decades ago. Mr. Potter was making his yearly visit to his parent's graves with his family when they were attacked by agents of the Erus Renatus. At first, the Erus Renatus didn't show themselves, instead attempting to enchant the remains of the dead wizards in the graveyard into Inferi. Due to a serious miscalculation on their part, there wasn't much left in the ground to enchant and all they managed to conjure up was a malevolent dust cloud. They did, though, use the cloud as a cover under which they launched several unforgivable curses at the Potter family. Fortunately none of the Potter family was seriously hurt in the ensuing battle and in an incredible stroke of luck, they were even able to stun and capture a member of the Erus Renatus, Tom Yaxley, before they were all able to escape.

It is through this member of the Erus Renatus that we have gained much of our intel via Veritaserum. Unfortunately, he seems to be far-removed from the leaders of the movement and admitted to being a new recruit. But even then, he has provided us with invaluable information which I have arranged for you to hear for yourself today." She nodded to an Auror at the back of the highest step, who turned and went to summon the prisoner. There was an anxious chatter amongst the Wizengamot as Mrs. Granger-Weasley took a seat behind a desk at the bottom-most step, between her brother-in-law, Mr. Percy Ignatius Weasley, and Lord Julius Berger.

She heard the prisoner before she saw him begin his long descent down the steps. He was violently coughing as he was led down by the two Aurors flanking him. _Is he trying to cough back up the veritaserum?_, Mrs. Granger-Wealey thought to herself curiously. But they couldn't have administered it yet. It had to be administered in front of the entire Wizengamot for it to be admissible at all.

He was making loud retching noises now and Mrs. Granger-Weasley found something rising up in her own throat as her apprehension grew. Something was off here. With growing unease, she realized that he wasn't being led down the steps- he was leading! He was almost tripping down the steps, trying to get to the platform. But then he stopped a few steps away and sank to his knees, now gagging loudly between deep pained groans.

"Get him out- GET HIM OUT NOW!" Mrs. Granger-Weasley shouted, standing and pointing her wand at Yaxley. But just as the Aurors had seized him by the shoulders to pull him back, he gag-screamed one last time, and several of his teeth and an odd grey blur was launched out of his bloody mouth. The grey object bounced down the rest of the steps and landed on the platform.

In the longest second of Wizengamot history, a small charred skull with a glowing green serpent hanging out of its mouth just sat on the platform. Some of the elderly members of the Wizengamot struggled to stand up and get a better look, while others just gaped from their seats. At the same time, the scribe's eyes went blank and she whipped out her wand in a fluid motion that smashed her typewriter against the ground, her lips already moving. Mrs. Granger-Weasley grabbed the robes of her brother-in-law and dragged him with her as she threw herself on top of her other neighbor, Lord Berger. Her empty hand was left to wildly twirl her wand and the desk in front of them instantly liquefied and formed a bronze cocoon around them.

"Confringo!" roared the scribe, her wand pointed right at the skull.

The skull exploded, bathing the entire Wizengamot in a deathly green glow.


	3. Chapter 3 Monsters in the Family

**Disclaimer: All non-OC characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Many thanks to one of the finest betas the internet has to offer, Lady Mayflower, and to everyone who read and/or reviewed!

* * *

Louis Weasley and the Blue Moon

Chapter 3  


Monsters in the Family

Despite the humble origins of its patriarch, the Weasley family did not live a modest lifestyle. Supported by two high-paying jobs at Gringotts, the Weasleys often ate out at extravagant restaurants, vacationed in foreign countries (primarily France) and went shopping in Diagon Alley as frequently as once a week. Their mansion, renamed _Le Manoir Blanc _by Mrs. Weasley, reflected this lavish way of life. The interior of _Le Manoir Blanc_ almost exclusively reflected the tastes and style of Mrs. Weasley. Almost all of the furniture and other decorations kept within had been brought over with her from one of her annual trips to France. Made of pure white marble, with two tall towers attached to both ends, _Le Manoir Blanc _could better be described as a miniscule two-story castle than it could a house. It even had a thin moat surrounding it, left over from the previous owner, some Muggle heir to ancient royalty.

Louis Weasley's room was the only bedroom in the left tower, above his mother's precious china room. While both of his sisters had had to share the right tower, Louis had exclusive possession of the opposite tower because his parents had argued that, as the only son, he required some privacy. Years ago, in an attempt to impress his Uncle Ron, he had made the mistake of pretending to be a fan of the infamous Chudley Cannons, an unpopular professional Quidditch team that had won a total of five matches since Louis's grandfather Weasley had attended Hogwarts. Louis didn't even like Quidditch. Nevertheless, he had several posters of men and women in bright yellow and black robes plastered across the light blue walls of the circular room. These obnoxious posters had been Louis's only deviation from his mother's more elegant choice of bright, plush furniture. Overall, his room had become a victim of the monstrous combination of his mother's and uncle's tastes.

Today, Louis stood clad on in a towel, staring triumphantly into a mirror. He decided that the fiasco at Shell Cottage was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. A long, fat scar stretched from his right shoulder to his collar-bone. In actuality it was the last legacy of his Frankensteinian potion from hell, but he debated whether he could get away with making it seem like it was from the werewolf. No, he admitted to himself sadly, much too fat to be from claws. Even then, he wouldn't be putting on the rubbish salve Healer Patil had given him. _Rub it on twice a day for another week and you'll never know it was ever there,_ she had said. Why on Earth would he want to scrub away the one mark he had that proved that he, Louis Guillame Weasley, had been a part of something extraordinary and daring? He had gone up against a werewolf and survived. This was the first - and likely the last - adventure of his life, and he'd be damned if he was going back to his droll life without so much as a trophy.

On top of the scar, the fiasco seemed to have inspired his body. He had grown several inches in the proceeding weeks. He had bulked up quite a bit too; no longer could he see the faint outline of his ribs. Everyone he had met had commented that it was extraordinary. Biggest growth spurt any of them had ever seen! Really, he was just looking forward to towering over all the pricks who had always enjoyed towering over him: his sisters, his cousin Hugo, Richie MacMillan…

He turned to glare down at the neat pile of clothes his mother had set aside for him on the thick covers of his bed. He had meant to feign illness this morning to get out of the impending dinner with the MacMillans, but he was almost caught choking on a Fever Fudge. It would be awkward to try to explain the situation with Richie MacMillan to his parents, so he had given up right then and there. He picked up the lacy tips of the dress robes and to his horror, floral blue fabric unfurled before him. It was like his maman was trying to use him as the night's entertainment for Richie. Nevertheless, not wanting to anger his parents (who were already prickly after the incident of him burning down their vacation home's garden shed), he pulled on the robes. They were tight. Merlin's beard, was Richie going to have the time of his life tonight.

An hour later, he sat in the sitting room, playing cards with one of the house elves. He was trying desperately to keep his mind off the impending night, but the fact that he knew Twinky was purposefully losing the game made it even harder. When he heard the familiar popping noise of the MacMillans apparating outside the house, all the courage he had spent building up disapparated as well. His mother was under the impression that it looked better for the human hosts to answer the door instead of the house elves, so it was Louis who welcomed the MacMillan family in with a wide fake smile and pleasantries he had spent all of his life rehearsing.

Richie's face lit up as soon as he saw Louis. Bollocks. Louis wasn't towering over him either- Richie had grown this summer as well. This was going to be a long night. He tried to focus his attention on Mr. MacMillan and his kinder, clear blue eyes. No such luck; the women of the Weasley family had entered the room and brought their Veela charm with them. Louis was stuck between watching Mr. MacMillan and his older son goggle at his mum or watch Richie gleefully grinning down at him and his Mrs. Weasley-approved dress robes. A moment later, Richie's eyes wandered too. Louis instantly decided that the fact that Richie obviously enjoyed watching his sister and mum in their tight dress robes as much as he enjoyed Louis in his was infinitely worse.

Dinner was awful in a wholly surprising away. Richie was polite and even sweet. The perfect gentleman. It was sickening. He complimented his family and his home in all the right ways. When asked about himself, Richie always managed to brush off _and_ affirm the admiration simultaneously. He had turned bullshit into an art form. That, along with an animated conversation between him and Louis's dad about Quidditch, made it obvious that Richie was a better combination of the golden genetics of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley than Louis himself. He certainly had the blonde hair and charming good looks for it. At one point, he was even contriving thrilling tales of his adventures with Louis during their last few years as house mates.

"-So there we are- Louis, Thurk, and I- caught red-handed with toad spawn all over our trousers!" Richie was narrating, his hand reaching out and slapping Louis on the back. The entire table roared with laughter, except Louis who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Detention with Professor Filch was never so worth it!" Louis grimaced. Detention with Professor Filch was never worth it, even in this warped fictional reality where Louis and Richie were friends. "Oh, no thank you- Quidditch season, you know," Richie said to Twinky as she offered him a slice of chocolate cake, to an approving look from Louis's father.

"Me neither," Louis mumbled. Twinky raised her tiny eyebrows at him but continued on to Mrs. MacMillan anyways.

"It's so great that all you boys are so close," Louis's mother said, beaming at him. Louis averted his eyes, glaring down at his sad, empty dessert plate. He knew that his parents wanted the past hour of lies to be true. They needed this dinner to work. Their jobs at Gringotts depended on it. With the current economic recession raging in the wizarding world, it was critical that the MacMillans be convinced to invest, and what better way to bridge the gap than for their two sons to be best mates. If Louis had been someone different, someone that a bloke like Richie would actually like, perhaps the pleasantly surprised glances he was getting from his parents wouldn't feel so terrible.

"Absolutely," Richie agreed. "Except for Sam, of course," he continued, sighing heavily. Louis looked up curiously- there was no boy named Sam in their year.

"Sam?" Mr. Weasley asked, glancing quizzically at Louis.

"Sam Talstory," Richie replied. His hand was still around Louis's shoulder, except now his fingers were digging into his upper arm so hard that Louis was surprised that his nails hadn't cut through the thin silk of his dress robes. Louis glanced at his parents, but they had too many glasses of wine to notice. He himself felt that he could've used some of that liquid courage tonight. "He's sort of the joke of our year. It's really sad, actually. No one really likes him. He's not really a people person, I guess, and he's sort of- well, lame.

"Like in our first year in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he got so nervous I suppose and actually- excuse me for saying this at the dinner table- pissed his pants!"

Louis went red. Richie was talking about him! Richie was literally talking trash about him to his parents and staying on their good pages at the same time.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes! A lot of the boys in our year like to take the mickey out of him. Louis and I try to help but there's only so much we can do!"

"And there's only so much you can do! At some point, it really is up to Sam to step up and defend himself," Louis's father said.

That, Louis decided at once, hurt more than Richie's nails.

He glanced at his sister. She must know that there was no Sam Talstory- or rather, that he _was _Sam Talstory. But she wasn't paying the dinner conversation any attention, instead pointedly looking away from Richie's brother, who was smiling dumbly at her, sometimes sparing him quick glances just to give him the slightest of flirtatious smiles.

Richie nodded earnestly but before he could continue, Mr. MacMillan interrupted.

"Perhaps it's time the adults had some time to ourselves," he said. Both of Louis's parents' eyes immediately focused on Louis.

"Erm, yeah- would you guys like to, um, see my tower?"

"Of course, lead the way," Richie replied, standing up.

No sooner had Louis led them out of the formal dining room that Dominique took Richie's brother in hand and started leading him in the other direction.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked, his voice cracking. Richie smirked next to him.

"Oh, just going to give him a quick tour," Dominique responded, grinning. Richie's brother stood behind her, stupidly grinning at their connected hands.

"We'll go with," Louis said, making to follow but Dominique's scowl stopped him mid-step. Defeated, Louis turned and led Richie into his tower.

"Bloody hell!" Richie exclaimed as soon as the door shut behind them, abandoning the façade once and for all. He was slowly spinning in place, taking in the gaudy décor. "Seriously mate, do you even have anything hanging down there? Is that a statue of a naked man?"

"It's an artifact!" Louis protested. "It's worth-!"

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Richie cut in nastily, turning to him.

"So- erm, what would you like to do?" Louis asked timidly, after a long silence of taking inventory of all the other suddenly humiliating 'artifacts' in his room. "I have exploding snap down in the -"

"Oh cut the bullshit, fairy. We've both already done our parts. Now it's your goblin-fucking mum and dad's turn to kiss my parents' ass," Richie snapped, his scowl intensifying.

Louis wasn't quite sure how to respond to this sudden return to normal, so he just stared at his feet.

"I can't believe that they actually think this will work too. After the disaster at the Wizengamot, the whole bloody wizarding world is plunging into a damn depression. The British economy's already going to shit, made a fuckton times worse by the fact that the goblins are screwing us raw and your parents think they can make us forget with a fucking dinner!"

Louis stayed silent. He never really thought about the economy or goblins. He had overheard his parents grumble about it and seen related headlines on the cover of the Daily Prophet, but it had never really affected him. He had barely given the Wizengamot a second thought after hearing that Aunt Hermione and Uncle Percy were both fine. Even now, when he knew this dinner was to schmooze the MacMillans, he had never paused to realize its impact if the troubled times had even caught up to his family.

"But the sad part is that it's working, isn't it? That's what they're doing right now. My dad's probably getting ready to drop down to his knees so goblins can spray him with gold," Richie continued bitterly.

Louis looked up at him. Hadn't Richie just spent the entire night playing the part of the golden son?

"My dad would have my ass if I hadn't!" Richie snapped, as if reading his mind. "But what about you? At least I have the mind to at least feel some remorse about all this. Everything in this creepy castle is bought by goblin money and all you do is stand there in your sister's dress robes!"

Louis turned pink but still didn't say anything. Of all the ways he thought this night would go, he had not expected to be scolded by _Richie MacMillan _for being rich! He almost preferred the best-mates-at-Hogwarts act.

"You're such a little bitch! Pansy! Fairy!"

A small part of him wanted to retort. The ridiculousness and hypocrisy of the situation was too much. And he had faced a bloody werewolf! What was Richie bloody MacMillan in comparison? But then an even bigger part of him recognized that he'd had have to look up at Richie, with his burly Quidditch player build, to say anything back. So he bit his tongue and returned to glaring down at his uncomfortable dress shoes.

"Well?" Richie snapped after a minute of silence.

"Well what?" Louis mumbled back.

"Aren't you going to bloody say something?" Richie demanded. He seemed more outraged than ever before. He moved to step forward and Louis quickly stepped backwards, tripping and falling onto his bed. He stared wide-eyed up at Richie and Richie glowered back before letting out a low growl and turning on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

Louis stared at the door. With Richie a safe distance from him, he was able to think more clearly about Richie's rant. _What a bloody hypocrite_, he raged quietly. The MacMillans were as rich as his family. Perhaps his family (especially his mother) were flashier about it, but in the end, they had about the same amount of galleons in the bank. _If Richie wants change so bloody bad, he can do it himself!_ Why did Louis have to shoulder the burden of the disintegrating wizarding economy? He didn't even know what was happening. None of this had anything to do with him!

He was still sitting there sulking when Dominique popped her disheveled head in to the room to tell him to come down and see the MacMillans off.

"See you in Hogwarts, mate!" Richie said, grinning as he interlocked arms with his mom for side-along apparition. Louis resisted the urge to slam the door right then and instead responded with a meek smile as both sets of parents stared him down expectantly.

With a loud _pop,_ the MacMillans were gone and with a tired sigh, Louis turned around and quickly made his way back up towards his tower, ready to go to bed and be done with the night. "Louis?" his mother beckoned. He paused and looked back. "Louis, we need to talk."

Louis stared curiously at her. Could it be Richie? Did she see through his façade? Or had Richie said something to her after he had left?

"Perhaps this would best be done in your bedroom," his mother continued, exchanging a knowing look with his father.

A minute later they sat together on his bed, his mother staring quietly at her hands and Louis staring quizzically at her. His maman was rarely ever at a loss for words, and while she was more than prone to dramatics, there was something in her facial expression that was especially troubling.

"Seeing you with the MacMillan boy reminded me that soon you'll be returning to Hogwarts," his mother said. English, Louis noted. His mother only ever spoke to him in English when it was something important. Or something terrible. "And better to do it now, after a glass of wine. You need to know the truth about who you are. About who we are."

"It's about our family," his mother continued. "The Delacours, they…oh, I don't even know where to begin." She stumbled over her words. Louis raised his eyebrows. His mother was one of the most well-spoken witches he knew, a product of the many years she had dedicated to perfecting her English after choosing to reside permanently in England. "I suppose I should begin with my grandfather, your namesake, Louis Dugald Delacour. As you know, he was a very famous naturalist-"

"Like Lysander's parents"?

"I suppose- a bit," she said, nodding slightly. No doubt she had some reservations about comparing Lysander Scamandar's quirky parents to her own blood but still, she yielded. "Except he almost exclusively studied what was considered to be the most mysterious and menacing magical beings at the time: Veelas. Till he came along, everything the wizarding world knew about Veelas were from old legends and fairy tales."

Louis nodded. This much he knew. Much of the wealth his mother's side of the family enjoyed came from the fortune Louis D. Delacour had made off his research.

"What you need to understand about Veelas- something I've avoided discussing with you or your sisters- is that they're- they're magical creatures, not the same as a wizard or a witch," she continued. "They're not at all the glamorous beauties we see in advertisements or as mascots for Quidditch teams. Most of those women are only part Veela. Most true Veelas don't have the necessary amount of self-control it would take to be around humans for that long."

Louis nodded again, staring absently at the window. He began to wonder if maybe _Beau_, his eagle owl, would be back from hunting soon. He hoped to send a letter to Aleks and Lysander before he went to bed.

His mother suddenly grabbed Louis by the wrist and pulled him closer. Her bright blue eyes had a wild quality to them now.

"Listen to me, Louis!" she hissed. "Veelas are nothing like they have you believe. True Veelas are _monsters _who have the ability to disguise themselves as humans. They lure victims in with their beauty and charm, and then they feed!"

"Feed? What's that supposed to mean?" Louis asked as he tried to gently pry his mother's hand off of him, his own eyes starting to widen with fear.

"Eat- what else?!" she snapped. She stood up suddenly, letting go of her son. "My grandfather studied them. He was the only one to study them that was ever successful- most who tried ended up being killed as soon as they got too close. My grandfather, however, got so close as to infiltrate a Veela colony in Bulgaria, having somehow established a trade relationship with the King-"

"Their what?"

"King," she repeated." Veelas live in colonies, entirely female except for one male, the King. Veela males are extremely rare, and very different from the females. I'm not sure exactly how- no one is. They're the most elusive, and the rest of the colony's fiercely protective of him. Even my grandfather was only allowed to communicate with the King through one of his wives. A few months in, the unthinkable happened. My grandfather fell in love with one of the wives. Together, they returned to France to escape the King, knowing he wouldn't follow. Veelas focus only on luring their prey to them rather than hunting them down themselves- especially across country borders. They eventually married and went on to have children, which was when my grandfather made one of his most important discoveries. Veela genetics are strong, strong enough to overpower human genes. Which is why, even after all these generations, they've caught up to you, too."

"Caught up to me? What do you mean, maman? I don't understand why you're telling me any of this."

"It's sort of the Veela equivalent of puberty," she explained. "Always occurring after human puberty, it has to be triggered by some feeling of being threatened. Dominique's was triggered by her first Quidditch match, Victoire's and mine were both triggered by very unfriendly encounters with men, and yours by the attack on Shell Cottage."

"Mine?" Louis asked incredulously. _A second puberty?_ _Bugger that, I just finished up the first! _"And what unfriendly encounters?"

"You need to prepare yourself, Louis," she said, ignoring his latter question. "We don't know what to expect, but even then, you need to be ready for anything."

"Like what? You said Dominque and Victoire both already went through this!"

"Male Veelas are very different from the females. The changes that you are going to go through are going to be different from what the women in our family have gone through. And seeing as there's little to no knowledge available about male Veelas, we have no idea what those changes could be."

"But what about the other hybrids- the mascots and the models?" Louis exclaimed, his voice cracking.

"Women, all of them," his mother responded quietly. "As far as we know, you're the only wizard with Veela blood."

"But in your grandfather's research books-"

"My family doesn't own a copy."

"Doesn't own a copy?" Louis repeated after a stunned silence. "How the bloody- sorry, but how does that even-"?

"They were little use to us after we learned how to deal with the change. And they proved to be much more useful in other ways."

"Like?"

"Money."

"But- but there has to be a copy somewhere!"

"It seems that they have all disappeared," his mother responded solemnly. "More than likely the Veelas –or some witch or wizard working for them- bought all of them back. When they agreed to trade with my grandfather and allow him to observe them, they had him make a wizard's promise to them that he wouldn't publish any of his findings. They never thought that years later, he would be able to get around the promise by convincing my grandmother, a Veela Queen, to betray them and free him of the promise. I doubt they wanted their secrets out for all the world to know like that. And fortunately for them, my grandfather never published many copies of his book and died shortly after he did."

There was a brief silence as both mother and son sat terrified.

"But," she said suddenly, taking his hand into hers and smiling encouragingly at him, "there are certain books which reference some of the research my grandfather did. Books that were circulated in such large numbers that there was no way the Veelas could have hid them from the world. We haven't found any yet but we will. We've only just begun our search. And I've sent an owl to my family in France. Help is on the way, Louis."

"What happens to girls during the change?" Louis asked quietly.

"Emotions seem to run higher. Their Veela charm grows stronger and of course, you've seen that when we get angry…" She trailed off but he knew what she meant. Dominique got fouled for 'going Veela' at every Quidditch match he had ever seen her play in. In the beginning, the referee and the rest of Hogwarts had been completely unsure how to go about dealing with one of their star beaters abandoning her clubs and throwing balls of flame instead of bludgers. But after much debate and speculation that she was going to be banned from Quididtch all together, it was decided that she'd just be fouled. "There's of course a mental element. A slight personality shift. Only to be expected as a result of everything else going on."

Louis nodded grimly, his eyes downcast.

"Look, Louis, we shall figure this out," she told him tenderly. She gave his hand one last squeeze, embraced him, and then stood up. "I'll leave you to your thoughts."

"Wait maman," he said, just as her fingers wrapped around the door knob. "Your grandfather Louis- how did he die?"

He could tell from the grim look on her face that she wished that he hadn't asked her that.

"My grandmother, she- she lost control one day," she replied softly. "It's a wonder they lasted as long as they did. While Veelas breeding with humans isn't completely unheard of, love between a human and a Veela is. Veelas aren't meant to be in long-term monogamous relationships with humans."

"Lost control?" Louis croaked, dreading the answer.

"She killed him," his maman whispered. He had assumed that at least his own ancestor was the exception. The one innocent in a family of monsters. He was wrong.

As soon as his mother had left, he tore the tight dress robes off of himself furiously. He glared at the mirror. Only a few hours ago, he had looked up on the scar across his shoulder from Shell Cottage with pride, but now he saw it clearly. It had done nothing to help him and had only added to his responsibilities. It seemed to mock him now. And then he saw tiny red marks from Richie's finger nails…

He let out a low throaty yell, angrily heaving the dress onto the mirror, covering its face and silencing it for good.


	4. Chapter 4 Baby of the Family

**Disclaimer: All non-OC characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

A thousand thanks to a great beta Lady Mayflower, my friend Hannah, and everyone reading/reviewing!

* * *

Louis Weasley and the Blue Moon

Chapter 4  


Baby of the Family  


The Burrow had started out as a generous wedding present to a young Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley. It was supposed to just be a starter home, tiny as it was, but as the Weasley family quickly grew, so had the house. They added story upon story, each just barely supported by magic, as they added child upon child to their family till finally it reached its last state of evolution as the tall, crooked house it was now. When the next generation came of age, the Weasley family began to grow exponentially, but by then, the Burrow had long given up its struggle to keep up with the family. Even then, elderly Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hosted a yearly end of summer celebration, cramming dozens of their sons, daughter, daughters-in-law, son-in-law, grandsons, granddaughters, grandson-in-law, and great-grandson all into their congested home.

As was tradition, Louis's family flooed into the Burrow's fireplace hours after the rest of the guests. Louie coughed violently as he stumbled out of the mushroom-shaped cloud of ash, his ears still ringing from the screaming match between Bill and Dominique over the exorbitant time she spent agonizing over her hair. No sooner had he stepped out did a throng of hands reach out for him, each pulling him into a series of crushing hugs.

"You've gotten so big!" Grandma Weasley exclaimed. Louis beamed as several of the aunts and uncles that had somehow squeezed themselves into the Burrow's sitting room agreed.

"Bloody hell!" cursed his sister behind him, turning her wand on herself and fervently snarling spells to scour away the black marks from her dress. Around them, Louis's many relatives pulled out their own wands and began poking at her dress, contributing their own spells. Louis used the diversion to escape from the well-meaning welcome mob and walked straight into his cousin Lucy.

"Blimey- sorry Lucy!" Louis apologized, reaching out and helping the tiny blonde Gryffindor up.

"It's okay," Lucy responded, smiling brightly up at him. Lucy was his Uncle Percy's daughter and hands down, the sweetest person he knew. Now a fourth year and the youngest granddaughter, Lucy shared the title of being the baby of the family with Louis, the youngest grandson. "Well, look at you! I guess I'm the midget of the family!"

"There's always Hugo," a deep voice boomed behind Lucy. Brawny James Potter laughed as the stocky brunette boy next to him thumped him on the arm.

"Shut up, James!" Hugo snapped.

"So how have your holidays been?" Lucy asked, motioning to Louis to sit down at the kitchen table.

_I might be growing talons and a tail_, Louis toyed with saying. But was a freaky second puberty really party appropriate small talk?

Besides, for the first time, he had an adventure of his own to talk about. "Nothing much, it's been a pretty boring holiday- you know, other than the whole getting attacked by a werewolf thing," Louis responded, grinning.

"Wicked!" Hugo exclaimed.

"Yeah, heard about that- sorry the bloke got released," James said, nodding seriously. Louis shrugged. In all honesty, he hadn't really given much thought to the trial or Flint. Flint had just been the wizard in his backyard rolling around screaming. He hadn't actually attacked Louis; he'd just given him a fun story at dinner parties.

"It started out pretty boring though- just cooking up a potion when-" Louis started.

"James! How's Auror training?" Dominque interrupted from behind Louis, patting down her newly revived dress. Louis turned and glared at her. He had spent the entire evening, while waiting for _her_ to get ready, perfecting a dramatic retelling of the night that conveniently glossed over his own incompetence. He had even rehearsed a half-decent wolf howl!

"Great, they're letting me apprentice with Uncle Ron!"

"Wow, I bet you two get a lot done," Dominque sniped. "Where's the rest of your lot?"

"Out scouting to make sure there aren't any muggles about," James answered. Louis instantly forgot all his grievances toward his sister. Muggle scoping only meant one thing: Quidditch. All of his cousins, even tiny Lucy and studious Rose, played Quidditch at family gatherings. All of them except Louis, that is. While Lucy had managed to turn her size into an advantage with speed, he had never mastered the art of accelerating on a broom _and _staying on it. Thus, his smallish stature prevented him from joining his family in this annual ritual. Or rather, _had _prevented him, he realized. Freaky Veela puberty, while terrifying, had its uses.

"Excellent!" Dominique exclaimed, grinning.

"Excellent," Louis agreed. He smirked confidently at her as she glanced confused at him.

"No muggles to be seen," Roxanne, their Uncle George's daughter, said as she walked into the room. Tall and with uniquely freckled brown skin, Roxanne was the Gryffindor Chaser.

"Al, Fred, and Molly are fetching the brooms now," Lily Potter added, following in after Roxanne. Never had someone taken more after their namesake than Lily. She had her grandmother's beauty, wits, and benevolence. All she lacked were the famous emerald eyes.

Behind Louis, the mob in the sitting room exploded noisily in affection. "And that would be Jean- perfect timing, you can play with him while we're playing Quidditch," she told Louis, straining her voice to be heard.

"Actually, I-"

"There's my favorite brother and sister!"

Louis had barely turned before thin lips smacked both of his cheeks in quick succession. Standing over him was his eldest sister, Victoire Weasley. She was unbelievably beautiful and unbelievably tall. So much so that in Hogwarts there had been a brief rumor that instead of being part Veela, she was really part Giant. The rumor hadn't lasted long though- Victoire was as prideful as she was an extremely talented witch. She had an impressive aura that shielded off any slights. While other girls of her height would've been discarded as lanky, Victoire was 'super-model tall'. She wasn't awkwardly towering over everybody, she was simply too good to be on their eye level. Or at least that's the air she gave off.

Victoire handed her son, Jean, to Louis as she continued to dispense her exotic greeting to the rest of the cousins gathered in the cramped kitchen. Jean giggled up at him, leaning forward to follow his mother's example and kiss Louis sloppily on the cheek. The toddler pulled away, his hair quickly fading to copy Louis's blonde hair. As Dominique closed in to kiss him on the cheek too, his hair flared up and turned strawberry blonde. Lily came over next and all the strands of his tiny head lit into a fiery red at once. Jean didn't talk much, but who needed words with a greeting like that?

"Alright, Louis?" Teddy Lupin asked, following his wife in and clapping Louis hard on the back. "Oh, sorry mate," he exclaimed, having accidentally knocked the thin boy into the table.

"It's alright," Louis muttered, biting down a grimace.

"You're just in time- Al, Fred, and Molly are getting the brooms so we can play Quidditch!" Hugo exclaimed excitedly.

"Not today," she said, smiling. She exchanged a smug, secretive look with her husband and Louis had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Typical Victoire, adding theatrics even when turning down a glorified game of magical catch.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Dominique asked reproachfully.

"Now we don't have a full team!" Hugo complained. Victoire shrugged.

"Shut up, Hugo, we can play without her!" his sister Rose snapped from the doorway.

"I can play!" Louis volunteered loudly. Instantly the atmosphere changed from irritation at Victoire for rejecting the time-old Weasley tradition to an awkward wariness towards Louis for trying to join in on that same tradition.

Dominique's shrill laugh cut through the tense silence.

"Didn't you just get back from St. Mungo's?"

"It's just not a good idea, Louis," Victoire said, glancing reproachfully at Dominique. "You're so- so delicate."

"Delicate?" Louis repeated incredulously. Jean was _delicate_. He, on the other hand, was a few months away from being sixteen and a little more than a year from being a fully blown wizard. He had just gotten back from St. Mungo's after a stinging encounter with a _werewolf_. Briefly, he had the wild urge to rip off his shirt and showcase his freshly scarred badge of bravery. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"We can't baby you," Dominique snapped impatiently. "Most of us are on our house Quidditch teams. I'm bloody captain this year too! And it's been a whole bloody summer of just sitting around on our ass. We _need_ this practice."

"Louis, you need rest," Victoire continued serenely. "You just got out of St. Mungo's a few weeks ago". She sent down a condescending look that was probably meant to be motherly. In that moment, Louis decided that the only witch in the whole bloody United Kingdom who could use that tone with him was his Grandmum Weasley.

But other than a few people echoing Victoire's weak excuse, nobody said anything else worthwhile. Soon enough, Dominique was leading the charge and pushing past Louis. She grabbed a broom from Albus at the door and marched haughtily outside, the rest of them filing past Louis quietly and joining her.

"Oooh, is that The Biting Fairies?" Victoire asked loudly as soon as the door closed behind them, cutting into the awkward silence before it could begin. She gestured dramatically at the family room, as if the promise of angsty witches hollering on the radio would erase the last few minutes.

Louis ignored her and went outside too, letting the door slam behind him. Instead of following his cousin's trail farther out, he turned towards the bushes. From a distance he could hear his cousins split themselves into two teams: "reds" (Weasleys who won the genetic lottery and sported the infamous red hair) and "others" (genetic losers).

As he settled down on the edge of a particular shabby rose bush, he waited patiently for the ugly little gnomes that populated his grandparent's garden to come rushing out at him. His cousins had their Quidditch tradition and he had this, lazily kicking around a rock with the least-liked residents of the Burrow (even more than the noisy ghoul in the attic!) while listening to his family whoop and shout in the distance.

But today he saw no grotesque head poking out of any of the bushes, shyly edging closer to check if this was the one Weasley who wasn't going to pitch them out of the yard. _Strange_, Louis thought. He could've sworn that he heard the bushes rustling pretty violently as he had walked out into the garden. Had his grandparents de-gnomed this morning?

"Happened to me, too."

Louis had to push back his head to the point that it hurt to look up at Victoire. She had snuck up next to him as he was in deep thought trying to solve the case of the missing garden gnomes.

"I was right around your age," she continued, kneeling down next to him. She held her dress robes up above her ankles, careful not to let them touch the ground. "As soon as you opened that door, they probably scrambled into their holes. And it's not just garden gnomes either. Other people's cats, dogs, owls- in Hogwarts, Teddy would have to wait until he was back in his tower to get his mail because his owl would refuse to come near us at the table in the morning. I hope you're not in Care of Magical Creatures. Dominique had to withdraw after the first month because whatever beast was in class that day would lose its mind near her."

"By around your age, I mean-" she started to say after he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I got it," he said, staring straight ahead at Dominique, who was screaming bloody murder at Hugo for dropping the Quaffle.

She sighed, and it wasn't one of her theatrical, loud ones that would rattle the air around them, demanding their attention. It was small and modest. She reached out and interlocked his fingers around her own.

"I know you're scared," she said, and he almost snapped back that he wasn't, just out of habit. "You're not alone in this at all."

"Actually, I'm only the Veela wizard in existence as far as we know," he pointed out quietly, "so in a way, I am all alone in this."

"No, you're just the _first_," she corrected. "Jean is, too- and probably not the last, either. And knowing Veela genes, he'll probably have to go through whatever it is you're going to be going through, so I don't just have to worry about you- I have to worry about him, too! Merlin, not only is his mum part Veela, but his dad's a metamorphmagus, granddad was a werewolf…and worst of all, the other grandad's a _Weasley_."

Louis chuckled but his insides did a double take. He had spent so much time feeling alone but now that he knew he wasn't, he wished he was.

Victoire smiled at him, squeezing his hand. She pulled slightly at his arm and he turned his body to face her.

"If anything happens, you can owl me, Louis," she said earnestly. "You need to take this seriously. If not for your own sake, for Jean's!" He nodded, and tried giving her a small, confident can-do smile. She smiled widely back at him and Louis noticed that, in proper Victoire fashion, her eyes were bright with tears.

She jumped suddenly and pulled him up with her.

"Alright, well let's stop sulking like a bunch of teenagers and get back inside to the party, shall we?" she exclaimed, pulling him towards the door. Perhaps another day, he would've reminded her that he _was_ in fact a teenager, and so he absolutely had the right to spend his night glaring bludgers at his family amidst their annual Louis-less Quiditch game, but today he followed her back in.

They navigated their way through their hoard of loud relatives to Teddy and Aunt Audrey, who was bouncing a gleeful Jean in her arms.

"Boom, Jean! Thunder!" Teddy was saying to his son, a wide grin on both of their faces. Jean squeezed his eyes and clenched his tiny fists. His hair turned pitch black and then blonde streaked through his hair before returning to black, and then streaked again. Victoire squealed as if she wasn't the one who probably spent hours teaching him that trick.

"Now do maman's voice!" Victoire said, moving her ecstatic face an inch away from her son's face. Jean opened his mouth wide and instead of his own high voice, out came his mother's voice.

"Jean!" he echoed his mother calling out to him before returning to laughing normally with the rest of them.

"It's hard for us to do voices," Teddy told them. "I certainly couldn't do it at Jean's age. In fact, I never really got a knack for it."

"We can't even take him out anywhere!" Victoire bragged loudly. "He draws too much attention."

Louis rarely ever agreed with his sister's over-the-top gloating. But with Jean, he did so whole-heartedly. No other baby compared. In fact, after Jean, Louis found all other babies dull and a complete nuisance, really. All they did was cry and pee all over you. Jean at least turned his hair an appropriate neon yellow right before.

Jean had also taken over as the baby of the family. While Louis had always technically shared that role with Lucy (and he supposed with fellow fifth years Hugo and Lily who were admittedly only older by a few months), he felt like he was the one who was treated most like it. After all, _she _was the one outside playing Quidditch.

"Glass of wine, Victoire?" Uncle George asked, popping up beside Aunt Aubrey with an empty glass of wine in one hand and a fancy amber-colored bottle in the other. Victoire shook her head, smiling secretively at her husband. "You, Louis?" he asked, shaking the glass a little and winking mischievously at him.

"Uncle George!" Victoire admonished him playfully. She laughed loudly as if it was obviously a ridiculous joke and not as if he was _essentially five seconds away from being of age_! The intimate moment he had shared with his sister two minutes ago disapparated and their relationship was back to its stasis of her being patronizing and him being peeved.

Victoire's laugh intensified as she noticed Louis glowering at her. She reached out and pinched Louis's cheek. He wondered what was worse: the sister who enjoyed pissing him off or the sister who thought it was adorable when he was.

"Oh Louis, you couldn't have seriously thought that-."

"And why not?" Uncle George asked, smiling quizzically at them. "I've been slipping Fred whiskey since he was-!"

"You've been what?" the indignant voice of Aunt Angelina snapped from the conversation next to them.

"Nothing, hun," Uncle George responded smoothly, winking at them before going to refill his wife's glass.

"Uncle Percy!" Victoire called excitedly, spotting her uncle with Aunt Hermione at the other end of the family room. Louis's raised his pale eye brows. No one ever greeted Uncle Percy with that level of glee.

"How are you?" she asked, sending him her biggest, toothiest smile. Uncle Percy warily sighed up at her.

"Busy but fine."

"Good, good. Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about my Veela scent!"

Suddenly it all made sense. After Hogwarts, Victoire had gotten a job as both a potioneer and a model for Madame Change, who owned a line of cosmetic potions. After a year or two there, she had quit and started her own business with her own original line. Her latest line of perfumes was going to be advertised as "harnessing the charm of a Veela" (which sounded a lot more foreboding to him now than it had before). Currently, and probably appropriately, it was being investigated by the Ministry of Magic to decide whether or not it fell under the restriction that perfumes couldn't contain love potions.

"Now Victoire, you know that I can't talk to you about that. I've had myself completely removed from the case. It'll look bad for my Minister of Magic campaign if the public believes I helped you in any way."

Uncle Percy had announced his intention to run for the new British Minister of Magic a few months ago, and as expected, had talked about it nonstop since. He had developed an impressive and unfortunate talent of being able to drop mention of it into every single one of his conversations, no matter if the topic was the weather or ghost control.

"Louis, would you be a dear and refill the scones tray?" Grandmum Weasley called from the sitting chair, waving tiredly at the empty tray on the coffee table next to them. "There should be more in the oven."

Louis nodded and made his trek to the kitchen, having to hug the empty tray to his body as he squeezed past slightly intoxicated aunts and uncles, many of whom made their own requests when they heard Louis's destination.

"Refill the scones tray for Grandmum, dump out whatever's left of Uncle Ron's drink and fill it with water for Aunt Hermione, get maman another cup of tea, and fetch Victoire a glass of water," Louis mumbled to himself over and over again as he did what he was told.

As he was scrubbing away the grease stains left over from his, in retrospect, dicey decision to hug the scone tray, he tried to figure out how he was supposed to not only carry the rather large tray of scones, two glasses, and a cup of hot tea all at once but also manage to push his way through that crowd. He suddenly realized that the sitting room, which had just before been filled with roaring laughter and a dozen overlapping conversations, had significantly calmed down. Now he could hear just one voice speaking solemnly to the rest of the adults. Curious to hear what the adults were discussing away from their children, Louis turned off the sink and tiptoed his way towards the sitting room.

He got on his knees and leaned his ear against the door. He could hear his heart pound hard against his chest and the pits of his shirt were damp already. Suddenly his hearing sharpened and he could hear the speaker as clearly as if he had been standing directly next to him.

"-and then there are all the threats that Lord Berger has been receiving," his Uncle Harry was saying. "The Auror department's going mad trying to sort through them."

"Well, of course he'd be a target," Aunt Ginny said. "A Muggle-born running for the Ministry of Magic position!"

"And not just a Muggle-born," reminded Aunt Hermione. "His title comes from his relation to the Muggle royal family."

"Well, it's not like any wizard in his right mind is going to vote him into office!" Uncle George said. "No one wants the leader of _our_ world to be that close to the leaders of _their_ world!"

"The Muggle royal family doesn't actually lead-."

"That's not the point, Hermione!"

"He's using it as part of his campaign platform- some rubbish about bringing the two worlds closer together," Uncle Percy said. "Especially with the current economic situation- plenty of people reckon getting involved with the Muggle economy could boost our own."

"And who in the world wants that? We don't need them!"

"Well apparently the Erus Renatus agree with you, Ron, seeing as they've made it clear that Lord Berger was one of the main targets in the attack," Aunt Hermione said coldly.

"And about the Erus Renatus, I've been meaning to talk to you lot about them for ages," Uncle George said. "Are the rumors true- have they any chance of bringing You-Know-Who back?"

"Voldemort- it's been two decades, you might as well say it."

"Alright then- any chance of Lord Voldy Morts returning? Harry?"

"No, if there were any more Horcruxes out there, I would know," Uncle Harry responded immediately.

"And I don't doubt that, but it doesn't have to be a Horcrux, does it?" Uncle George said. "Unicorn blood, Horcruxes, brain-washing diaries-"

"Tom Riddle's diary was a Horcrux," Aunt Ginny reminded him.

"My point is that he's been pretty clever so far in finding ways to keep himself alive," Uncle George continued. "And wasn't he supposed to have spent years traveling the world looking for ways to stay immortal? Who's to say Horcruxes were his only-"

But just then, the door to the backyard flew open as James and Dominique sprinted into the kitchen. Taken by surprise, Louis yelped as he leaned too far into the door and pushed it open, falling into the sitting room.

"Molly took a pretty bad hit to the head!" James yelled.

"_Hugo_ dropped the bludger on her," Dominique added venomously. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey jumped over Louis and darted out of the house to their daughter.

"See, that game is barbaric and dangerous and-" Uncle Percy was yelling before the door slammed shut and cut him off.

As it turned out, Molly was fine after a few simple healing charms. And after an initial volley of cautious glances at Louis from his adult relatives, the rest of the night continued normally: Uncle Percy grumbled about new safety legislation he would put over Quidditch once he was Minister (which of course, with the Weasleys, put him in danger of losing votes), Victoire toured the party showing off Jean's electric new trick, and Uncle George got too drunk and mistook his son Fred, for the umpteenth time, for his namesake.

Throughout all this, all Louis could think about was the terrifying idea of Voldemort being reborn for the second time. Though he had been born more than a decade after Voldemort's defeat, he had grown up on haunting tales of Death Eaters and Dark Marks. Of his Uncle Fred or his Great Uncles Fabian and Gideon or Teddy's parents or… the list went on and on. The Weasley family was renowned for their role in the Second War. But that had been more than two dozen years ago. If Voldemort did come back, it would be up to Louis's generation to maintain their status as the saviors. And that was even more alarming than his being part monster.

Looking around at his cousins, it seemed impossible. His family, which normally seemed so huge, suddenly seemed too small to be significant. But as if answering his thoughts, Victoire stood up and clanged her spoon against her glass of water.

"Please everybody, I have an announcement!" she called out.

"_We_ have an announcement," her husband corrected from next to her, bouncing their son in his lap.

"Right, we have an announcement," she said, smiling down at him. "Some of you may have noticed that I've been acting a tad strangely." Louis could almost hear Dominique roll her eyes. "But fret not family, amongst all this talk of werewolves and the Ministry, I have some good news." She dropped her hands to her stomach and several of his family members gasped- Louis didn't check to see if they had drunk enough to miss her many not-so-hinting all night or if they were just giving Victoire the reaction she obviously wanted. "I'm pregnant!"

There was a loud bang as Teddy punched his wand into the air and a jet of confetti sprayed over his wife. Chairs all around them screeched as the Weasleys rushed out of their chairs to congratulate Victoire. Watching Jean grab excitedly at the confetti falling around him, Louis couldn't help but join in the cheer.

"Thank you, thank you!" Victoire was saying, gently blowing confetti out of her hair with her wand. She had on the same smile she had married Teddy in.

"Do you know what it is yet?" Lucy asked excitedly.

"Yeah, we've been wondering all night," Dominique said.

"It's another boy," Victoire answered. Her eyes connected with Louis's and her smile became strained. But only for a second. "And I'm so excited!" she continued, still staring at Louis but there was something reassuring in her face now. Louis tried to return it, with the same level of warmth but he couldn't help but feel almost a little nauseous. Along with a new baby boy in the family came another pressure for him to somehow _succeed_ in his Veela transition.


	5. Chapter 5 Pure Messenger

**Disclaimer: All non-OC characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Thanks to my dedicated beta Lady Mayflower and everyone reading/reviewing!

* * *

Louis Weasley and the Blue Moon

Chapter 5

Pure Messenger

Down the street from King's Cross Station, there was a tiny, regal purple building called the Pure Messenger that looked deceptively ordinary to the many Muggles who passed it daily. The Pure Messenger had several defenses against the nonmagical population: its grim, lack-luster appearance, enchantments that automatically redirected a Muggle's attention if it were to ever try to focus on the building, and a magical barrier that directly prevented a Muggle from entering the premises.

Inside, the Pure Messenger was a long hall lined with grand fireplaces through which wealthy, pureblood families used the Floo Network to travel into central London. It also served as a designated area for adults in the family to apparate to, as opposed to breaking the International Statue of Secrecy by randomly materializing in front of Muggle Londoners anywhere else. This way, traditional wizarding families would have to spend as little time as possible traveling among Muggles; they could go straight to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The Ministry of Magic had recently begun fighting against the exclusivity of Pure Messenger. They were trying to force the managers to significantly lower the exorbitant fees which made it so that only the wealthiest family could utilize it. The Ministry demanded, at the very least, that the archaic enchantments which kept out Muggles be removed, as to make it an option for Wizarding families with Muggle members. The question of whether the Ministry could force a business to change its centuries-old traditions was a hot topic in the wizarding world, as was the question of whether the Pure Messenger could so obviously exclude Muggle-borns.

Despite the current controversy surrounding Pure Messenger, the Weasley family stepped out of the raging emerald flames of its fireplaces on the morning of September 1st. After all, being able to use Pure Messenger was a symbol of wealth and power.

"Dépèche toi! Hurry!" Mrs. Weasley snapped at her son as he struggled to heave his trunk out into the open. Impatiently, she jerked her wand and the trunk slid out of the fireplace, Louis being dragged along with it. Behind him, the flames vanished, leaving only large coals transfigured to resemble gold in the hearth.

"You going to be able to drag that thing all the way to the train on your own?" Dominique asked, sitting on her own trunk a few feet away. Louis nodded his head furiously, pink-faced and already panting. This was a new year. He was nearly a foot taller (meaning a trip to the over-priced specialty boutiques in Diagon Alley for new Hogwarts robes, and a second trip to replace _those _Hogwarts robes not much later), and the Muggle disguise his Aunt Audrey had sent him felt tight around the shoulders and arms in a way that stroked his ego in all the right ways. A new year meant new Louis, and new Louis meant being able to carry his own damn luggage.

Unfortunately for him, the textbooks for all of his classes cumulatively weighed more than he did. He had only made it halfway down the road to the station before he had to give into his fatigued muscles (and his mother's shrill demands) and let his father carry the luggage for him.

"I can take it from here- thanks dad," Louis said when they finally reached the train. Mr. Weasley nodded, pretending not to notice Louis's grimace.

"Should've gotten a trolley," Dominique said quietly.

"Well, we're here!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, ignoring her daughter and clapping her hands. She opened her purse and dropped handfuls of sickles into both of her children's hands. "Wouldn't want my kids to go hungry on the train, would I?" she joked. Dominique thanked her, slipping the sickles into her own purse without a second thought. But to Louis, the sickles' bright shine suddenly seemed obnoxious and he hurriedly hid them in his pocket, but even there their weight bothered him. Richie's hypocritical rant echoed faintly in his head.

"Try to spend some time outside of the Quidditch pitch, yeah?" Mr. Weasley said, hugging his daughter and kissing her on the forehead. "And you," he said, turning to Louis and pulling him into a bear hug, "you be sure to rough up any bloke who gets too close to your sister."

Dominique laughed a bit too loudly at this and quickly kissed her mother's cheeks before disappearing onto the train.

"Have a good year, Louis," his mother said next, kissing both of her son's cheeks. "And remember that this year will- will be different. You will be different. Be safe and be smart, okay?"

"And no dueling this year," Mr. Weasley added.

Louis decided not to mention that this 'dueling' was always one-sided and nodded. He climbed onto the train, his parents ignoring his protests and levitating the trunk on after him. Seconds later, the train gave its loudest whistle yet and began pulling away. His heart sank more and more as his parents disappeared from view. While he loved Hogwarts, the majority of the wizards at the school didn't seem to like him.

But this was a new year. Like his mum had just said, he was different now. So he turned away from the window and started walking down the train corridor, his luggage bobbing loyally behind him. It took furiously repeating the dedicated mantra of "new year, new me" for him to keep his pace leisurely. A tiny part of him, obviously left over from his fourth year, wanted to sprint down the corridors and find a nice loo to hide in. But he couldn't. He couldn't possibly hope to fit his trunk in the train loo.

As he walked, he peeked through the windows into the compartments hoping to find the familiar white blond hair of his best mate Lysander or at least some friendly Weasley red. With the proportion of Weasleys to non-Weasleys at Hogwarts, he had figured he wouldn't have to go far. But before he could give that theory a fair try, he found a familiar face only a few doors into his search. He immediately tried to stride away but the bulging green eyes of Amory MacDonald had recognized him back and the compartment door immediately slid open.

"Louis! Mate!" Amory called out gleefully, poking his head of thick curly brown hair into the corridor "Come join us!"

Louis reluctantly entered a compartment full of Gryffindor boys. He was even more disheartened to not find Hugo among them; though granted, Hugo had never been much help to him anyway.

"Sit, sit!" Amory said and two Gryffindor boys across from him moved to make room. One patted the newly created, thin space, both grinning deviously up at Louis. "Funny we should see you- we were just thinking about you!" Amory said, smiling widely as Louis sat down. Amory had a smile that was way too big for his face. Louis often day-dreamed of putting a shrinking charm on it, then just letting it shrink and shrink until he would have to eat his meals with a straw.

"Oh?" Louis asked, uncomfortably aware of how the shoulders of the two wizards next to him were mashing hard against his own.

"Yeah!" Amory said. "You see, we're running a bit short on money. And Gid here," he nodded at the troll-sized wizard to Louis's left," was running late so he didn't have a chance to eat anything before the train. To tell you the truth, mate, neither did I. And it'll be hours until we reach Hogwarts, you know. _Hooooours_." Amory pronounced the last word with such dramatic flair that Victoire Weasley herself would've been put to shame.

There was an expectant silence as all of the Gryffindor boys stared eagerly at Louis. But little did they know that they were _not _talking to the Louis of old.

"Oh?" Louis finally said, his eyes skimming around trying to find some place to stare at that wasn't red and gold. It was a difficult task; the compartment was so crammed with Gryffindors that it was a wonder they had managed to find room for Louis.

"You mind giving us a hand, mate- just a few sickles should cover it," Amory said. His outrageous smile hadn't wavered despite the silence. Louis suddenly realized how stupid he must look with his eyes spinning around. He tried to focus on the floor where his trunk had come to a rest. His parent's levitation charm had been broken by the many Gryffindor feet resting on top. Now it lay weighted to the ground. With rising panic, he noticed the Gryffindor boy leaning casually against the compartment door. He had left 'the new Louis' on the other side of that door!

"C'mon, Louis," 'Gid' said leaning closer to Louis, "I haven't had anything to eat. Help a friend out!"

"Sure," Louis mumbled, kneeling down to reach into his trunk's outer pocket to pull out some sickles. He savored the instant relief that was being a more comfortable distance away from Gid and his broad, Beater shoulders. "Here," he said, throwing the sickles at Amory. None of the sickles reached Amory's outstretched palm. One bounced off his glasses while the rest clattered noisily against Louis's trunk. Louis tried moving to gather the sickles, if only for an excuse to hide how red his face was getting, but he tripped over his trunk and slammed his head against Amory's kneecap. The entire compartment broke out into laughter and Louis desperately grabbed at the sickles. But when he finally did gather them, Amory waved his wand and the sickles shot out of Louis's hands into his own.

"Thanks mate," Amory said, smiling easily at him. The compartment door slid open and Louis was bewildered to see the trolley lady. _Like clockwork, how was anybody's life this bloody perfect?_

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"Oh good," Amory said, unfazed by the incredibility of the trolley lady's timing. "Chocolate Frogs for all of us, please- even you, Louis!" he said, winking at Louis as he handed the sickles over. He stared at Louis expectantly as the trolley lady counted the tiny stack of sickles.

"Erm, thanks?" Louis said, still awkwardly kneeling on top of his trunk. The compartment laughed loudly at this.

"You're short four sickles," the trolley lady told them. Amory groaned dramatically.

"Anybody got four sickles? C'mon!"

"Sorry mate, all out," Gid said grinning, not moving to check.

"How about you, Louis? Got anymore silver in there?"

"We saw you coming out of the Pure Messenger," one boy said accusingly.

"Yeah, of course," Louis mumbled, digging into the trunk again and pulling out another handful. "This should cover it," he said, leaning over to hand it to the trolley lady.

"There's a good lad," Amory said, reaching out to muss up Louis's hair in a way that reminded Louis uncomfortably of his farewell to Bête. "My thanks to you and your parents' fat Gringrott vaults!"

"I reckon theirs is one of the only fat ones left," one of the other Gryffindor boys grumbled bitterly. Many of the other boys agreed.

"Now, now, Louis's paid his dues," Amory said, still smiling as he passed the Chocolate Frogs the trolley lady had just handed him to his mates. "Not his fault his parents work for _goblins_," Amory said, spitting out the last word. His characteristic grin had vanished and the mood in the compartment instantly darkened without it.

"Right, well, I'll be off now," Louis said, avoiding the eyes of the now-scowling Gryffindors as he stood up. He had made it to the door because Amory's smile returned.

"Louis, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Erm- right, my Chocolate Frog," Louis said, noticing the two unopened Chocolate Frogs in Amory's lap. The entire compartment laughed.

"I meant your luggage, mate," Amory said, as he opened up one Chocolate Frog and quickly bit into it before it could jump away.

"Oh right," Louis said, still staring dumbly at Amory. Amory stared back innocently as he finished the first Chocolate Frog and began tearing into the other one's wrapper.

"Oh, is there something else you wanted, mate?" Amory asked, Louis's Chocolate Frog squirming in his tight grip now. The laughter in the compartment grew even louder as Amory brought it within an inch from his mouth and paused, seemingly waiting patiently for Louis's response. The Chocolate Frog was ironically fighting harder than Louis was, its tiny soft legs kicking furiously at Amory's face.

"Oh- um, no, nothing," Louis said, looking away quickly. He bent down and started pulling at his trunk, which refused to budge with the boys' feet still planted firmly on it. He tried and failed at ignoring Amory making a show of biting off the lower half of the Chocolate Frog. Blood rushed to his face and he knew he must have matched the Gryffindor uniforms around him. Suddenly, he felt as if blood was rushing to his hands and the trunk easily slid out from underneath the Gryffindors. Unprepared for this strange adrenaline rush, he accidentally pulled too hard and slammed into the opposite compartment door, to the further amusement of the compartment in front of him. He quickly stood up and strode away, his trunk feeling almost weightless as he pulled it behind him.

It wasn't long, though, before his random bout of superhuman strength left him and the trunk began screeching slowly against the ground as he dragged it on. But he welcomed the weight, hoping falsely that it might distract him from going over the incident in his head and thinking of all the things he should've said. Maybe he should've actually tried a shrinking curse on Amory's mouth. But then again, he was pretty shoddy with his wandwork. And he didn't fancy the reaction of the rest of the Gryffindors.

But he hadn't given in for the first minute. Old Louis would've immediately handed over the money, no convincing necessary. This time, he had stalled, if only for a little while. That was growth, he decided.

"Louis!" called out a voice from a compartment he had just passed and Louis turned to see the wizard he had originally been searching for. Lysander Scamandar was easily the most distinct wizard Louis knew; his white blond hair always stood up as if he just been struck by lightning and he always wore a pair of glasses that were not only huge themselves, but magnified his eyes tenfold. Louis dropped his luggage and pulled the deathly pale wizard into a tight hug. Lysander laughed- a laugh that redeemed all laughs after the incident with the Gryffindors.

"Fucks sake, mate," the olive-skinned boy sitting in the compartment said, grinning. He stood, clapping Louis hard on the back. Aleks Evans was Louis's other best mate and with his Chaser build, Louis wouldn't have doubted it if he had left a bruise on his back, but he didn't care. Together they pulled in Louis's trunk. Louis settled into a feeling of relief as they closed the compartment door and he sat down among his mates.

"So is it true? You've been battling werewolves?" Aleks asked immediately.

"You wouldn't need to ask if you ever bothered to answer our letters," Lysander said accusingly.

"Oh c'mon mate, you know how my dad feels about owls!"

"Yeah, I had snuck out for some late night potion brewing when I was attacked by your malicious neighborhood werewolf," Louis said, casually leaning back in his seat. "Same old really."

"Same old, huh?" Aleks laughed. Louis grinned and launched into his story, complete with his reenactment of the wolf's howling and all.

"That's fucking wicked, mate."

"And there's still this huge scar- you'll see it when we change into our robes!" Louis said excitedly.

"From the werewolf- but when did he-?"

"Erm, well technically not from the werewolf- he never actually touched me," Louis clarified, realizing that this was unfortunately an important plot point to remember. He didn't want people to think he had been turned. If the students at Hogwarts were going to ostracize him, it was going to be for his personality and not because they thought he'd turn into an animal come the full moon! "And how about your guys' holidays?"

"Mum, dad, and I went to Morocco to look for the black phoenix," Lysander said, matching Louis's previous excitement. "No luck but we managed to get you that locket. Did you like it?"

"Yeah!" Louis exclaimed, pulling out the half-moon locket from his pocket.

"What exactly is that?" Aleks asked.

"It's the moon of course- it's bewitched to reflect the moon's current state. It's the year of the blue moon!" Lysander explained. Louis didn't know what the blue moon was, nor did he care to find out, so he turned quickly to Aleks.

"And you, Aleks? How were your holidays?"

"Long, boring- the usual," Aleks told them. "Dad wouldn't let up about how expensive Hogwarts is. Two jobs and he still wouldn't stop acting like a bloody prat!"

"I thought the Muggle economy was doing well," Lysander said, frowning.

"Doesn't matter how the economy is, my family's always going to be poor," Aleks responded glumly. "But there was one highlight. I got a girlfriend!"

"What? A Muggle?"

"Yeah! Since I started at Hogwarts, I've been so into Quidditch and witches that I completely forgot about our nonmagical sisters. But Muggles, mate, I'm tell you. That's where the real magic is. They're so much freer than witches! Witches never want to do anything, but Muggles are so much less uptight! They're willing to do _everything_!"

"Really?" Louis asked, never more disappointed in his life that the only Muggle he knew was his Aunt Aubrey. Next to him, Lysander rolled his eyes and turned to his book- girls had never been his speed, Muggle or not. Aleks nodded his head eagerly and spent the rest of the train ride regaling an exhilarated Louis and a bored, gay Lysander with how far a Muggle girl would go.

"And that's just after two months!" Aleks was saying as they disembarked from the train and made their way to the horseless carriages.

"Mind if I visit you come Christmas holidays, Aleks?" Louis asked, laughing. "Introduce me to some nice Muggle girls."

But just then, he saw Chloe Bishop and his faith in witches came rushing back. She was sitting in the carriage they were about to pass, surrounded by her usual gaggle of Ravenclaw witches. Chloe lacked the overt sexiness that Aleks claimed every Muggle girl was born with but she had her own sweet charm. She seemed to have grown even lovelier over the holidays; her straight dark hair seemed softer, her slim figure even more seemly under her robes, and her wide eyes even warmer. Eyes that saw Louis staring.

Louis immediately tried to bolt away but Aleks grabbed his robes and pulled him back.

"Hello Chloe!" Aleks called. "Your holidays alright?"

"Yeah, you?" Chloe responded. Her voice had the same sing-song quality that Louis had replayed in his head over the last few months.

Aleks shrugged and Chloe turned her head to smile down at Louis.

"And you, Louis?"

"Erm- alright- sort of- kind of exciting," Louis stumbled over his words, suddenly unsure how to segue into his well-rehearsed werewolf story. "I- I fought a wolf- I mean not like a dog wolf, like a man wolf, you know- like a werewo- well I mean obviously what else would a man wolf be- I mean perhaps I guess like an Animagus but we don't have any of those in my family- but I wasn't attacked by anyone in my family of course-"

"-I'm sure you must've read the papers," Aleks said smoothly, ignoring the other Ravenclaws in Chloe's carriage who were silently shaking in laughter. "Hogwarts student fights off werewolf!"

"Bloody wicked it is!" Lysander agreed behind them. But before Chloe could confirm or deny that she had in fact seen the headlines for all of the main newspapers over the holidays, another voice piped in.

"Fights off werewolf? I thought you pissed yourself hiding in the garden shed," Richie MacMillan said from behind them, walking up to them with his own best mates, weedy Thomas Nott and burly John Thurkell.

Louis instantly regretted letting Aleks hold him back when he had tried bolting away.

"Oh leave him alone, Richie," Thomas Nott snapped, stepping around Aleks to face Chloe. Louis exchanged glances with Aleks, now as confused as he was embarrassed.

"How were your holidays, Chloe?" Thomas continued, smiling charmingly at Chloe. "You're looking right lovely!"

"Thanks, they were alright," Chloe said, smiling politely at him. She turned her head to speak to Louis.

"And you smell fantastic- what is that?" Thomas said, shifting slightly in front of Louis.

"Thank you! It's my mum's actually!" she said beaming at Thomas. "Madame Chang's _Natural_ _Witch_ _Scent_," she announced to her mates, loud enough that the students walking around them could hear. "I can get you a discount- we make wizards' cologne as well!" she said, winking at Louis.

"Oh Louis won't be needing that- his sister has her own line, doesn't she?" Richie reminded her pointedly, grinning at Louis. "'Course it's only witches' but I doubt he minds," he added, soft enough that the witches couldn't hear from their carriage.

"Right," Chloe said, her smile shrinking a bit.

"But I love it- I love the smell of you!" Louis exclaimed. "Very- really sweet- delicious! You're delicious- I mean not- but -" He cut off, noticing that Richie and his mates were smiling too widely at him. The other Ravenclaw girls were laughing but Chloe just giggled sweetly.

"Why thank you!" she said. She moved in her seat a bit, squishing her one friend against the other side's window. "I doubt all six of you boys will be able to find a carriage to yourself now. How about you come sit with us, Louis?"

For a second, Louis just stood gawking up at her. He had a dream that began just like this just a few weeks ago. Of course, he doubted reality would follow the dream anymore after this- after all, Chloe wasn't a Muggle girl. But even then, it was a start.

Aleks gave him a slight shove and Louis began climbing up the steps up. Beside him, Richie and Thomas were both scowling enviously at him while Aleks and Lysander were both grinning. Slightly above was Chloe's smiling face, waiting to welcome him into her inner circle. This was a dream come-

The step gave out from beneath his foot and gravity jerked him away from his dreamy existence. He yelped out as he landed on his knees in a muddy puddle.

"Are you alright?" Chloe asked anxiously.

"The step- it broke or something!" Louis said, pointing madly at the steps.

"Erm, no it didn't," one of the other Ravenclaw girls said, pointing at the perfectly intact step. Louis gaped but before he could come up with something to say, the carriage began moving slowly away.

"Next time, I suppose," Chloe called out as it gained speed, pulling Louis's dream farther and farther away from him. Louis just gawked wordlessly back at the carriage. Lysander and Aleks each grabbed him beneath the shoulders, and heaved him out of the puddle and onto his feet.

"We should probably get going, before all the carriages leave," Lysander said quietly.

"You're real prats!" Aleks snapped angrily. Louis turned to see Thurkell wink at him, patting the wand in his pocket. Lysander began pulling a dripping Louis and heated Aleks away from them.

"Welcome home, fairy!" the other Hufflepuff boys called out to him unison.


End file.
